


terrible angels

by cherry_darling



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-18
Updated: 2012-04-18
Packaged: 2017-11-03 20:50:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/385796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherry_darling/pseuds/cherry_darling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Are you sleeping with Asteria?” Harry asks Draco one morning. Draco hardly even looks at him as he sips his coffee. “Would it bother you if I were?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	terrible angels

and i am watching you

and you are starry, starry, starry

(JOANNA NEWSOM)

 

Of course, she wakes the dragon.

Love always wakes the dragon and suddenly

flames everywhere.

(RICHARD SIKEN)

 

-

 

Here’s the thing:

Ron once told Harry over bottles of red wine, “mate, don’t ever get involved with a married woman” and they were both a little drunk and Harry had joked, “Got a lot of experience with that, Ron?”

Ron had paused and pondered this and then shook his head, said, “No, but I can only assume married women are even crazier than the single ones.” He has this wise master look on his face and Harry remembers wanting to laugh.

Harry asked, “What about engaged ones?” and Ron hadn’t known the answer to that.

The thing is Ron never said anything about married _men_.

 

-

 

Except:

Asteria and Draco aren’t married (not yet) so Harry doesn’t feel as bad when Draco moans underneath him and opens his thighs and Harry presses a kiss to each scar on his chest, the scars that _he_ caused, an ugly, cruel reminder of the years of hatred and violence against each other, dragging his lips along the marked flesh, the puckered, raised bumps of the tissue, fish belly white and deep and every kiss Harry presses to them is like a silent apology.

“God, Potter,” Draco hisses when Harry pushes inside him and bites down on Harry’s bare shoulder to try to quiet his moans. His white hands grip the dark blue blankets and he squeezes his eyes tight when he comes, mouthing Harry’s name.

(“I never asked if it hurt,” Harry will say later, tracing one of the bigger scars that cuts from Draco’s collarbone to about four inches above his navel.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” Draco will answer softly and turn his face so that he’s not looking at Harry.

The fact that he doesn’t answer the question doesn’t escape Harry’s notice.)

 

-

 

Here’s a fact for you:

Harry regrets that day in the bathroom and he thinks that if he could go back and redo any moment in his life that would be one of them.

He thinks about the blood staining Malfoy’s shirt and the floor and his own clothes and the blood on Malfoy’s face and the tears and the screams and moans of pain and his stomach twists.

He kisses those scars at every opportunity, murmuring against the shiny skin, _I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me_.

(He’s not sure Malfoy ever will.)

 

-

 

Asteria wears the engagement ring on occasion, but she mostly keeps it in the pocket of her robes.

Parvati Patil once asked, “Why don’t you wear it on your finger?”

“I don’t want to lose it,” Asteria had said and Harry figured she was lying.

 

-

 

“Are you sleeping with Asteria?” Harry asks Draco one morning.

Draco hardly even looks at him as he sips his coffee. “Would it bother you if I were?”

Harry doesn’t know how to answer that.

 

-

 

This is the answer that Harry doesn’t give: Yes.

But you knew that already, didn’t you?

 

-

 

The answer he does give is: “I don’t care.”

“I think you do.” And Draco is so very smug that Harry thinks he hates him and it’s first year all over again.

 

-

 

Harry and Asteria have an assignment together and they accomplish it with great ease and Floo back to the Ministry. Asteria brushes the ash from the sleeves of her robes and out of her long dark hair and flashes Harry a smile.

He wishes her smile weren’t pitying but it is.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

Harry asks “For what?”

Asteria combs her fingers through her hair. “I think you know.”

 

-

 

He fucks her in the loo forty-five minutes later, and she’s soft and smooth and warm and unscarred under his hands and it’s nothing like fucking Draco. Asteria’s breath comes in quiet gasps, occasionally punctured by a high-pitched moan and she’s slippery and wet and she murmurs, “I know about you and Draco” in his ear when he presses his forehead against her neck.

She smoothes the sweaty hair away from his brow and gives him another pitying smile.

 

-

 

The next time they fuck, Harry has her bent over his office desk and grips her hips hard enough to bruise as if to say _you shouldn’t be here, he doesn’t want you, leave him alone_ and it’s like Asteria knows what he means because she presses her lips to his and breathes, “I’m so sorry” into his mouth.

 

-

 

Harry doesn’t know how shagging both Draco and Asteria became part of his routine, but it does. He can draw it out with Draco, taking his time mapping out the other man’s body, pressing kisses to every part of exposed flesh he can find, but with Asteria, it’s quick, it’s hurried, it’s messy.

He doesn’t look her in the eye afterward.

 

-

 

Sleeping with Asteria is like revenge, his own little revenge on Draco because Draco sleeping with her feels like a betrayal so this is like betraying Draco.

He thinks Asteria knows this but she doesn’t say so.

 

-

 

Harry has two fingers inside of Draco and is twisting them just so when he hears the door creak open and they turn and see Asteria standing there, expression unreadable. Harry gasps, pulls away quickly and stares at the ground saying, “it’s not – I mean – ”

Draco, however, just glances at his fiancée and they share a look. “Don’t just stand there and stare, darling,” he drawls and Asteria glides in, taking Harry’s hand and leads him to the bed. Asteria doesn’t live at Malfoy Manor, not yet, but she acts like she’s right at home as she leans down and kisses Draco, their mouths open and wet and shiny and Harry feels like an outsider until Asteria says, “Don’t be shy, Harry, you’ve been with us both” and Draco stares at Harry, grey eyes flashing and Harry doesn’t know what that means until later.

(You know what it means, though, don’t you?)

Draco sits up and helps Asteria out of her robes, kissing the back of her neck as he pushes them off her shoulders, pressing his lips to all the bare skin he can reach and then he lays her down, spreads her legs and buries his face between her thighs.

Asteria only moans once, but her eyes, green and wide, are focused sharply on Harry’s face, watching him with an unreadable expression. Her pale, long hands tangle in Draco’s white-blonde hair, nails painted bright red and she scrapes them against his scalp, arching her back and she lets out a quiet noise, all the while staring at Harry and Harry feels exposed, awkward, stripped bare in front of this strange, intense woman.

He can tell by the way her breath hitches that Asteria is close, but Draco pulls away. He moves to wipe his mouth but then pauses and leans forward, kissing Harry deeply, his tongue licking into Harry’s mouth and Harry can taste Asteria on him, on his lips and tongue and teeth, and it’s strange and unpleasant but he shifts so he’s rutting pathetically against Draco’s milk white thigh like a schoolboy and he can feel Draco laughing against him.

“Eager, aren’t you?” he mutters and Harry just nods, bites down hard enough on Draco’s lower lip to draw blood and kisses a trail down his chest.

Harry sucks Draco off, taking him as deep as he can in his mouth while Asteria crowds them, he long hair falling around them and she bites on Harry’s ear as Draco twists pathetically on the bed, fingers gripping the sheets. Asteria is hissing in Harry’s ear and Harry can’t understand what she’s saying but her breath is hot against his skin, humid and sticky and she tugs on the lobe with her teeth before she moves up and kisses Draco slow and deep, red painted nails raking down his bare chest.

They come like this: Harry inside Draco, Draco inside Asteria and Asteria’s long legs wrap around both of them, hooking her ankles together, pulling them closer, deeper and Harry squeezes Draco’s hips, marking him, his nails biting into the skin, drawing blood and forming bruises.

Then they sleep, a restless, uneasy slumber because there are too many people, limbs, hands in this bed and Draco tucks his head against Harry’s chest, his fingers resting lightly on his hip.

(“You’re mine,” Draco will growl later, much later as he pushes inside Harry roughly, mouthing at the back of Harry’s neck and Harry will just groan and spread his legs more.)

 

-

 

Asteria pulls on her grey dress, sweeps her hair into a loose bun and kisses both boys on the forehead before she leaves the room at dawn.

She pauses in the doorway, casts one last look at them as they sleep, and walks away.

She is smiling to herself.

 

-

 

 _end_.


End file.
